


Impossible

by viflow



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Angry Alfred, Angry Uhtred, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Alfred, POV Uhtred, Pining Alfred, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season 2 episode 6 related, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viflow/pseuds/viflow
Summary: "Did you never suspect?" Uhtred asks, and his gaze falls to Alfred's mouth and his lips tingle with how badly he wants to kiss those beautifully swollen lips again, but he forces himself to meet Alfred's eyes."No," Alfred whispers, and he sounds shaken. There's nothing of his usual sly, cool confidence as he says, "I’ve never thought.’’ Then his face changes, a slow smile spreading across his face, happiest smile in the world, making Uhtred wonder why they need candles at all, when Alfred’s smile is so bright it could light up the darkest room. ’’But sometimes… I wondered.’’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cubbish Crub](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cubbish+Crub).



> This is a gift to Cubbish Crub because her vids, you can watc them here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98-pMH_THqc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab3LfvX0FLU  
> \--made me ship these two.  
> And because they're just making me frustrated with all the unsaid feelings and angst and UST between them. I'm planing to write a second chapter with Uhtred's Pov and also fix them up.
> 
> Hope you'll like it.
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> The last Kingdom and it's character and (most of) the dialogues in this fic belong to BBC Two and to Bernard Cornwell.

After all this time, he could still manage to take his breath away.... as well as frustrate him beyond reason with his impudence.

There are times when he drives him mad with his tenaciousness and his actions like this; when he deliberately disobeys him.

Why is it so impossible for him to get it through his proud, thick, arrogant head that he is his King and _fair or not_ , his order is to be obeyed?

Why can’t he understand that he's forcing him to punish him if he keeps giving the impresson that he disrespects his authority while in front of others? Regardless if he means it or not. Regardless if it pains him to do so or not.

He must not, can not be blinded by human attributes like personal affection, weakness or favor.

Sometimes he manages to make him so enraged that he wants to break him, yet at the same time, he can’t bear the thought to see him humiliated or broken again.

He ought to hate him for his deception, for so openly defying him again. Alfred, the King ought to strip away his title, to have him thrown in the dungeons. And if not have him executed, he ought to have him publicly whipped or forced to grovel before him on his knees again until he couldn’t walk, and then banish him from Wessex, with nothing but the clothes he’s wearing.

The King ought to-- but Alfred can’t.

And though, he hates himself all the more for being so weak if it comes to him; as always, Alfred finds himself making up excuses.

No matter the circumstances, Alfred refuses to believe he would betray him, that he would conspire against him in such way. In his heart Alfred hopes, no, he knows, that despite the rough, arrogant, ruthless shell; at his core, he's a compassionate man and he's deeply, inexplicably loyal to the few people whom he really cares about.

He has treated him unfairly and did him injustice, had hurt him, cut him deep in his soul and left him with deep scars already too many times for him to just give in, and endure any kind of punishment willingly again.

And then Alfred would lose him.

The thought of it, just the thought of a life without him in it, feels like a twist of a knife in Alfred's chest.

It's a pain and suffering that slowly eats away Alfred's spirit. A secret, he’s banished into the deepest crevices of his soul and can't share with anyone.

Uhtred's wild, reckless, dangerous and uncontrollable. He's hot -headed, impulsive and rash.

And Alfred's been drawn to him like bugs to a candle light on hot summer nights.

He's been lost since the moment he’d first laid his eyes on him. Both man and boy at the time. A beautiful, wild, free spirit, with eyes so deceptively innocent and bright and so full of emotions- in spite of the darkness he'd walked through all his years. The boy, who made Alfred feel intrigued and confused because he had never looked at a man like that before. The sole person, who makes Alfred have thoughts and feelings no man should ever have about his fellow-man.

Even his dreams are filled with him. Sinful, confusing, forbidden images that make Alfred wake up hard, guilty and restless. Images, that come back to him during the day, too many times to count.

Alfred had wanted women before, but never like this. Never another male. And he never wanted anyone the way he wants Uhtred.

This was different.

This desire's unlike anything Alfred'd ever experienced before. It burns inside him. Burns under his skin and in the pit of his stomach. His attraction to Uhtred goes beyond rationality. Obviously, Alfred's body doesn't care that Uhtred is a barbarian, a pagan. A man.

And the worst of it is; that the physical attraction is only a fragment of this complete brewing mess Alfred's feeling.

But the rest… The longing to keep him close that clenches Alfred's chest whenever he sends him away. The fierce, covetous desire to keep Uhtred safe and protect him, even when he orders him to a dangerous guest that could cost him his life. The trobbing pulse of worry and angst until safe and sound-- Uhtred's back. The deep stab of irrational jealousy he feels when he watches or imagines him with his women.

These are all there and Alfred refuses to introspect them too closely because he knows if he did ---he'd find himself more entangled in something- something bigger and more confusing and dangerous than his physical attraction to Uhtred already is.

Alfred sometimes wonders if Uhtred has any idea what he's doing to him. How he is slowly burning away and blackening the layers of Alfred's soul with this fire, and Alfred isn't sure what will be left of it when Uhtred is done.

And Alfred tried, he tried so very hard to extinguish these strange, twisted feelings and desires-- but they just got stronger over the years.

He doesn't know how to stop this greed. He doesn't know how to cope with this complete and desperate desire to claim and possess Uhtred in every way. To take him, and take him so thoroughly that there is no going back, and let himself be taken, claimed and possessed in return.

Alfred doesn't know how to atone for the sin he knows is tarnishing his soul every time his mind indulges in it. He prays for guidance and tries to soothe the guilt in his soul. He keeps Uhtred out of arm's reach. But none of that made his yearning less.

There is no help for the madness of this longing and Arthur can only hope for a day it'll stop existing.

Until then.... he keeps hurting and pushing Uhtred in order to keep his distance... and not to cross that crucial line.

.....

’’How am I to trust you?” Alfred barked out, pushing back the confusing emotions swirling inside him.

The muscle in Uhtred’s jaw twitched slightly. Anger and resentment hardened his face with his stung pride, and he glared at Alfred with that peculiarly stubborn, arrogant expression.

’’Lord, I’m wary of this.’’ Uhtred replied with his usual insolence.

’’ _You_ are wary of this?’’

Bad enough that the idiot likes to stand up to Alfred at every opportunity, but it’s worse, that he does it so in public.

A hot, bubbling rage settled over Alfred. He found that he was abruptly, inexplicably, outrageously angry at Uhtred.

"You say you are sworn, yet you behave like a spy. You float into Danland and back again. You tell half truth, keep secret and you refuse to accept the existence of the one true God. You serve your King reluctantly." Alfred snapped his words like a whiplash.

A cold fury has imprinted on Uhtred handsome features, and his eyes were as hard as onyx as they bit into his. He looked cold and so remote he might be standing on a different island.

‘’ _But_..I _serve_ , Lord.’’ Uhtred scuffed back insolently, as usual, turning that single word _'Lord'_ into a mockery of the title.

‘’ I don’t know you....’’ Alfred bursted out, then stopped when he registered the flicker of disappointment and astonishment on Uhtred's face, there and gone in a second, before his eyes went ice-cold again. And while on one hand, Alfred hated that he put that look on Uhtred's face, on the other he's also decided that he's had enough of his own weakness. ’’--and I can never know you.’’ He added. ’’I--’’ he choked as his voice caught in his throat, his emotions tightening it like a hot ball.

There was a crack on Uhtred's icy expression.

For seconds he froze, then his eyes widened, and for another one of those moments, Alfred realized the hurt in those too-blue eyes. It had been fleeting, and just like before, it was over in a few seconds. Then, blinking helplessly, Uhtred tore his gaze away. His eyes cut down to the floor, resignation plain in every line of his face and his body, his throat working as he swallowed.

And for a second Alfred had to turn his head away too, as longing and need and guilt tangled up in his chest. But he couldn't show weakness. Because if he did, he'd fall to pieces. His lips tightened into a formidable line and he hardened his eyes.

When he looked up again, Uhtred was watching him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, and his jaw was set in determination. His face was hard, harder than Alfred’d ever seen it. Dark with disappointment and anger. It was as if in his furry all the little civility he’d acquired during the years has been stripped away, leaving nothing but the fierce, primitive, raw, ruthless barbarian and warrior underneath.

Their eyes met, and Alfred felt the shock of it radiate like a bolt of lightening up his spine.

The air was charged with the emotions crackling between them.

Alfred's heart throbbed hard, his blood pounded through his veins. His stomach muscles tensed as he fought the urge to sway in towards him. To touch. To break through the ice with his hands. To reach him.

The pace between them both way too close and not close enough. The silence stretched on, painfully tensed, and finally, Alfred just couldn't take it anymore--the way Uhtred was watching him. Impassive, unreadable, his eyes wide and way too blue and way too steely. He shifted uncomfortably because suddenly couldn't hold that gaze....

He opened his mouth to say something, anything...

’’ I do not understand you--’’ blurted his mouth, and the words choke off, but he made himself continue, "and I will never understand you--- And that is a fact, one of an increasing concern.’’ And because he couldn’t help it, he was stepping closer, closing the distance between them. ‘’And on top of this, my enemies call you, King.’’

Those words seemed to broken through the ice, a gap this time.

Uhtred's expression eased back from its hardness into something softer, and a small, amused smirk curled one corner of his distracting mouth, before he said softly, placating.

"And they called you a weasel, Lord. Neither is true.’’

 _Uhtred's lips._.. Plump and expressive and maddeningly seductive. Alfred reminded himself, repeatedly, not to let his gaze linger. It won't do to give himself away. This is why he shouldn't have come closer. But, God damn it, it was still enough to make him shiver from how much he wanted to taste them. Desire coursed through every vein in his body, reverberating like a drum. He swallowed thickly, took a shuddering sigh and dropped his head.

When he peeked up again, it was to find Uhtred observing him. His mouth relaxed into a soft line, his eyes were gentle and warm and filled with something... something very close to affection.

Alfred's heart skipped a beat, and the only word he managed to press through the tightness of his throat, with a small shake of his head, was--

"Impossible.’’


	2. Chapter 2

Uhtred feels an odd sensation in his abdomen, weighty and tugging downwards but also jolting upwards as if he might be sick. He clenches his fists, the rawness of his emotions lashing inside him like a whip. Anger. Disbelief. Despair.

He knows that Alfred's hurt, that he intended his words to be barbs, but it still felt like a hard slap. And it stung-bitterly.

He doesn’t know why is he surprised? He's just a bloody barbarian, a sinner, a heathen for Alfred. A useful equipment to fight his battles.

He’d given up so much for Alfred and proved himself so many times, yet Alfred was still unwilling to give it to him--his _trust._

Alfred had accused him once that everything he did came for a price. Uhtred wishes it was the only reason; so he wouldn’t have to feel the black emptiness opening up within him.

~*~

Destiny worked in twisted ways, Uhtred thinks with irony.

He rememberes the first time he saw Alfred. How he thought him gray, sickly, weak and boring.

But when their eyes met, Uhtred actually startled. The force of the connection had all the subtlety of a lightning rod prodding at the base of his mind. There was something about Alfred that made him perplexed. Something that made him choose Alfred, something that made him kneel and take his sword and hands in his and make the oath.

Since then he knows that Alfred is anything...but weak.

Watching Alfred deal justice and punishment graciously, distributing wealth and fines with wisdom during the same council, and although grudgingly; but he had to admit Alfred's intelligence from the very first time.

It was quickly revealed to him that under the fragile body there's irons will, beneath the delicate, pale features hides a frighteningly sharp, clever, cunning, strategist mind.

And though Alfred’s piety is a constant source of annoyance for him, Uhtred could understand the strategy in the way Alfred saw the power of Christianity as an unifying force.

He could also accept that for all of his Christian beliefs, in this world of savagery, betrayal and violent infighting -- Alfred has no choice, but being cold, manipulative, cunning and unscrupulous, just to survive – let alone able to manage his kingdom with such success.

In some way Alfred's very much like him. He's brave, he's a strong leader, he's Pig headed, arrogant and calculating-- to meet the ends of his needs, with a ruthless streak working inside him.

Alfred isn’t a warrior king but he's a great statesman. He has his power through his oratory, his understanding that recording and writing things down is how history, pacts, and deals are done.

And Uhtred has learned it in a hard way to never underestimate Alfred; as he found himself repeatedly manipulated by the wily King. Reluctant as he might have been, he must have come to the realization that Alfred had-- and still has-- the power and tactics to outsmart him at his own game. After all, Alfred managed to trick him into serving him, by extorting him with the debt, the rescue and Ragnar’s life.

Though Uhtred often wondered about this, and even now still wonders, if Alfred didn’t trick him into service, he wouldn’t have found other means to stay close to him.

~*~

He’d known for a long time that Alfred was the weak link in his armor.

It had been bad enough to realize that despite Alfred’s treatment of him, despite all the times Alfred gave up on him, despite all the occasions Alfred tried to break and therefore humiliated him, despite whatever unfair decisions Alfred made regarding him... It all came down to....that no matter how furious Uhtred was with him, he couldn’t really imagine there will ever be a day when he won’t protect Alfred.

But it had been baffling,(and if he was honest with himself it was still baffling) to realize that though he hadn’t forgiven Alfred, he also hadn’t stopped wanting him and caring for him. That he’d defend him, he’d follow him everywhere, into every danger, concerned with his safety.

He’d never, ever expected to care for anyone again with such intensity. Of all the people care for Alfred. He’s had his family, his women, and he cared for them. Ragnar was his brother, Brida his childhood sweetheart. He loved them fiercely, but their love was a family bond and the need to protect them was natural and expected from him.

But Alfred was different. Uhtred had done all the damage there himself.

And though his common sense dictated many times he should not accept Alfred’s demands and should not pledge his service to him---He did. Because then Alfred rewarded him with one of his rare half smiles that made Uhtred's heart soar and his common sense melt away, and he couldn’t make himself regret his decision.

 

It was one of the reasons why he tried not to think about Alfred that often. Because if he did, then Uhtred hated himself about the dependency he had developed.

 

 

~*~

 

And the other reasons are those nights when a spark of himself surfaces from where it’s banished during the day ....The nights, when he tosses and turns as all kind of sexual images-- including a certain pale, slim, strong headed king -- come unbidden into his mind.

It was unconscious and shameless, the way, his eyes raked over Alfred's naked chest--at Alfred’s coronation. They were drinking in the pale, surprisingly muscled, bare skin, speckled with soft, light brown hairs that dipped lower across Alfred's stomach, toward his breeches.

Uhtred felt like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, as a sudden blast of lust ran down his spine from the sight. _What the hell_. The wave of desire that hit him was so hot, so powerful, so unexpected that it took him aback. It rushed up between his legs, hardening a certain part of him that has never before been and certainly should not be interested in another man.

He was startled, shocked and stunned, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it but all that bottled up energy needed a place to go. So he took Brida against the window.

 _And he most definitely wasn’t thinking of Alfred_ while he banged her in the alcove. Except, of course, he totally, fucking was.

~*~

 

Alright. At first, he tried. He really did. He tried to push it all away. But sometimes during the nights when he was alone and the tight grip on his control slipped, he found it impossible to keep his mind from going there and let his thoughts run away with him.

And the details of Alfred’s body become sharper over the years.

It was like trying to hold water in his hands and witness it helplessly how it trickles through his fingers.

Because the _wants_  has been and  _is--_  still there.

And after a while he came to term with these needs and it’s no more earth shattering. He isn’t uncomfortable with it anymore, because he realized that unable to extinguish wasn’t equal with isn’t strong enough. And ‘I’ll fight it’ isn’t the same as ‘I know how to fight it’ -- and he sure as hell still has no idea _how_. He simply decided that this attraction and longing is outside of his usual understanding and accepted that this kind of desire is different.

Because Alfred is different. And this difference doesn’t turn Uhtred inside out anymore.

He accepts that for the first time in his life he can’t pursue something he wants, because it would be an exercise in futility.

And on those times when he covets Alfred so much he can’t bear it, he simply gives in and lets his fantasy fly. Oh, and he has many fantasies. Most of them include Alfred’s pretty mouth is doing filthy things to him, or Alfred's hands in his hair and on his skin and on his ass as he bangs Uhtred and it feels so damn good.

On other times in the dark of the night, when he closes his eyes and slides a hand down his stomach to close it around his cock, he pictures how Alfred’s body would look in vivid details.

And he would be beautiful. His body would be pale and slim but surprisingly toned. And Uhtred would kiss him all over. He’d start at his ankles, kiss up his calves and knees. He’d spread Alfred's long and slender thighs and kiss along the inside of them up to his chest before he’d turn him over and he’d slide his tongue and mouth all along his back. He would worship Alfred’s body, he’d taste and savor every inch of him, explore places Uhtred is sure nobody else has touched before. And Uhtred’d fill him. He could imagine how tight and hot Alfred would be around his cock. How Alfred's muscles would be clenching and gripping him like a tight, hot glove. How he would take Alfred apart, make him come over and over again until Alfred lost that bloody, iron minded control and coolness of his, and he’d writhing and panting. His body would be sweaty and his pale face flushed with pleasure in Uhtred's arms.

And when he comes it's with Alfred's name on his lips.

.........

Uhtred's always known that this thing he has for Alfred is utterly and hopelessly unrequited. He's never allowed himself to believe that anything could happen between them. He had known better than to think that Alfred would ever cross the boundaries keeping them apart.

Because Alfred is a king, and no way in hell he would ever want him. Why would a King, a pious, strongly religious King want anything to do with him?

With a pagan, a barbarian. A _man._

The only reason he’s still alive, the reason Alfred rescued him is that he needs him. Because he needs him in his fights to empower all the other kings and noblemen around the country and make them rise up and evict the Vikings and come together in one kingdom.

But it doesn't matter how much he tells himself that, try as he might, there are times when he can’t stop thinking about the way Alfred looks at him with that sincere, sure, almost fond expression on his face. The way he looks up at Uhtred without blinking with that penetrating, intense look like he can see right through Uhtred, to the very core of him.

And suddenly Uhtred finds himself looking back at all the interactions between himself and a certain King of Wessex.

How close Alfred stands when he forgets he's not supposed to. The way his mouth quirks into a rare, uninhibited half smile when he forgets himself. The way his voice chokes and his lips quiver on a little indescribable sound of hurt, when he is angry with him. The way his expression softens into something that might almost be fondness when there is only the two of them. And sometimes when their eyes lock there is a sparkle of deep affection there, and Uhtred could almost believe that Alfred had been worrying about him, that he cares and he is happy to see him alive.

And Uhtred knows that he is a fool for clinging to those fleeting moments like some lovelorn youth. And he knows he's just got an impressionable mind, right? He's only imagining those things about Alfred, imagining the want that sometimes fills Alfred eyes.

There is nothing.                          

Really.

Nothing of that kind.

 

Yet, he thought that despite their differences, despite the fact that they haven't always parted on the best of terms, and usually they just seem to not understand each other as they should, they were....something. Now--well, he wouldn't go as far as to say that they are friends. Certainly not friends, because Uhtred doesn’t think-- that apart from his children, whom he knows Alfred loves fiercely-- Alfred has a bone in him to let himself emotionally inclined with anybody. But considering what they’ve been through together, the battles they fought together, he hoped Alfred thought of him as some kind of an ally and deemed him worthy of his trust.

Obviously not.

Alright, Alfred’s accusation isn’t entirely inaccurate and ungrounded but still, it feels like a knife in Uhtred's gut. Hearing the blows fall from Alfred's mouth, seeing the dismissive, cold nothing behind Alfred's big, brown eyes-- feels like a hot, black hammer crushing down on him.

Uhtred stands there seething. He draws in a deep breath of air, trying to control the anger racing through his veins, while the other side of his brain is still screaming at him; that in spite of everything they’ve been through, in spite of everything he has done for Alfred, a few well-placed words were enough to drive a wedge between them, and sow the seeds of doubt and mistrust in Alfred’s heart.

His gaze hardens and Uhtred has the sudden sensation of finding himself at a crossroad, he hasn’t realized he was approaching.

........................................................................................

"What are you still doing here?" Alfred raises his eyes and shoots him a look that's half incredulous exasperation and half barely-contained anger, when the room is empty but for the two of them.

Fuck him, Uhtred thinks, _I’m doing it._ Everything that’s been pent up in him for this whole ridiculous meeting---

“Is that what I am, then? A useful barbarian--" he spits the word, “who you can treat like a shit under your Christian feet and throw away if you have no more use of it?”

Alfred regards him with a combination of anger and bewilderment in his eyes, but when he doesn't do anything to react to Uhtred’s words apart from that extended stare... Uhtred suddenly feels as if he's being filled, literally filled, from his feet to his ears--with a hot, liquid, reckless rage, that’s coursing through him. A wide, rushing river of it. And he knows from long experience that he’s not going to be able to be reasonable for this discussion.

“Because it would explain a lot.'' He goes on and takes a deep breath, ''Among other--”

“I--” gaping, Alfred cuts in, and he's looking at him befuddled as Uhtred were mad. But he’s recovering swiftly and snaps, ’’Get out," through clenched lips white with anger.

Uhtred half turns to exit but as he begins to turn he finds that’s just … not an option anymore.

He is bleeding, has been for years, and he can’t keep on letting Alfred do this to him. Alfred-- who has expected him to take the barbs, punishments, humiliations and every change of the past few years in stride without ever voicing his objection and feelings about them? And though he knows he is only Alfred's servant, yes, but he will not let Alfred treat him like dirt.

He bites his lip, clenches his fists against the ache in his chest and doesn't move. ’’ _No_.’’ He snaps, determined and hard.

Alfred's back jams straight. His body is taut and he holds his head up so fucking haughtily while his eyebrows snap together into a glare, utterly disbelieving of Uhtred's audacity. And for an instant, there is a faintest flicker of amusement gleaming in his eyes. But then the instant flies away, and in the next moment Alfred's the graven image of a king once again.

‘’I said get out,’’ Alfred snaps, voice cold and hard like steel, his eyes blazing with anger. Then he turns his back to Uhtred and gazes out of the windowsill, his back taut as a bowstring, his whole posture dismissive.

And though Uhtred gets the sense that there is only a breath distance from being ordered away for a lashing, or worse, he's getting too bloody frustrated to care. He could feel the hurt and anger leaking out of him, sliding into the stone and glass and the air itself around him, making it crackle with tension.

He locks his eyes on the back of that stubborn head and stepping forward, he moves closer to Alfred, within an arm’s reach. He might as well be executed for the whole thing, but he's past caring because he needed to say this for _so, so_ long.

“Why can’t you accept me? I’ve been nothing but truthful to you, yet you keep looking at me like I’m the worst kind of a repulsive creature, who you want to wipe from the face of the earth as soon as you have no use of it.” He is fighting against the stinging in his eyes, because he's furious with all the frustrated anger and hurt he had hidden under nonchalance and ignorance for years, “How many times do I have to prove myself before you believe in my loyalty?”

Alfred is standing in profile now, jaw rigid, his face perfectly still as granite and total unreadable, eyes locked stubbornly on the window. And Uhtred’s eyes take him in: The pale slope of his neck, the hardness of his pursed lips, the stiff line of his shoulders and the long, delicate fingers clasped together so tightly that Alfred's knuckles whitened under the hem of his tunic. There is a fragility to Alfred in the paleness of his delicate cheeks and dark shadow under his eyes. His big brown eyes are framed by long lashes as he keeps his head turned away, deliberately not acknowledging Uhtred’s presence.

Uhtred's chest feels tight with an ache he can’t even start to name and he shouts suddenly. “You are so good with words, say bloody something! ’’

Alfred flinches a little at that and there are fine tremors in his hands Uhtred wouldn’t catch if the distance between them wasn’t so small.

"It’s not like that." Alfred whispers and looks down at his hands, at his fiddling thumbs. He swallows then lifts his head back up, his face unchanged, but the iron set of his shoulders melts into something looser, something that looks almost defeated.

‘’Then explain it to me,”  Uhtred pleads desperately. Alfred’s silence about all of this driving him mad. He feels frustrated, wants to shake Alfred, to rile him up, to make him react in some way, not just stand there so cool and distant and unresponsive. “Please,” he chokes out, his voice breaks but he can’t bring himself to care about that, either.

But there’s only silence, deep as well as heavy.

Uhtred waits. And waits...and it flicks him entirely on the raw. He bites his lip and clenches his fists against the coiling in his stomach when he feels his resentment returns with a vengeance. He stares at Alfred, not able to believe that he is just going to stand there, still not looking at him, when he is begging for some kind of – for something.

After long, silent seconds, Uhtred takes a shuddering breath and turns away. It’s time to quit. He knows it. And all the holy shit, it does hurt something awful. His limbs feel too heavy as he scrambles to the door. His hand catches on the doorframe, like a claw. "I am going home,” he says low, feeling bewildered and hurt. “And I’m not asking for your bloody permission for that. I pledged my service to you, I wouldn’t dream of stepping back of that,'' he says with heavy sarcasm. ‘’You could send a word if you have a need of my pagan’s sword.’’

He is about to exit but there’s time enough to hear Alfred’s voice, utterly changed, a deep, broken grind of sound that is his name--

“Uhtred." The rawness of it is awful to hear, the gasping breath at the end of that single word.

Just his name, hanging in the air, and Uhtred’s stomach flips over on itself. He just stays there for a good long minute, his hand on the door while the adrenaline is still firing through his body. He sags against the door, his fingers curling and digging on the handle. He takes a deep breath, then takes another before turns to look at Alfred, who's standing at the same spot, still with his back to him.

But his shoulders are hunched like they were when his son was sick, when he retreated to the marshes all those years ago. When the lack of any prospect as how to retrieve his kingdom weighted down on his shoulders.

Uhtred sighs. Where just moments earlier his temper burned hot, somehow, in the span of a mere minute, Alfred has disarmed him and managed to replete it with…..something. Something else, Uhtred can’t quite name, but it's a part of him—an uncomfortably large part—that rockets inside him to make Alfred feel better.

He takes a hesitant step forward and then stops. Clenches his fists and doesn’t go to him.

Alfred's voice is soft, pained, awed and a bit exasperated when he speaks at last, "I can't predict you. It's frustrating, but I think it's really part of why I --"

Uhtred goes completely still. 

“I can’t do that,” Alfred is gasping, his body suddenly hunching over himself like he's in pain. “I can’t do that to you." Alfred's voice shakes. ’’Oh God, I tried...’’ he’s saying in a rush, the heel of his hand pressed to his chest, ’’I keep hurting you, to keep you away..."

“My lord?!” Uhtred says, bewildered. _What is this?_ Uhtred thinks because he has no idea what Alfred is trying to say, because they don't make a habit of speaking like this. Surely, Alfred’s words cannot mean....

“I can’t have you---I know that-- I’ve admitted---It’s the worth kind of sin--oh God,’’ Alfred buries his face in one hand, words muffled. ’’--But I can’t keep going on hurting you like this.’’

Uhtred is frozen on the spot. “What--what do you mean, you _can’t_ have me?” Hell, he’d probably permanently damaged his heart, it had stopped for so long.

“I can’t--” Alfred chokes, and finally, turns to face him. His hand falls away from his face and he closes his eyes.

“Alfred,” Uther gasps completely overwhelmed when he sees Alfred’s face, whiter than bone, muscles tight with pain and terror.

"God help me," Alfred whispers frantically in a voice that Uhtred has never heard from him before.

He stares at Alfred, confounded, ’’Alfred, what are you speaking about?’’ He asks again, his voice coming out raw and rough, unconsciously swaying forward-- hoping against hope—

Uhtred doesn't know what his own face looks like, but it must be a sight, because when finally Alfred opens his eyes and meets Uhtred’s gaze full on, a flush is spreading over his too pale cheeks. His eyes searching Uthred's face and there’s so much resignation and desperate longing there that it makes Uhtred’s breath stutter, his heart pounding frantically in his chest.

Alfred draws in a ragged breath, “Don’t you know?” he asks quietly, with a small, sad smile....

And that's it. All the confirmation Uhtred needs.

He doesn’t think before he moves. Their eyes locked, Uhtred catches the surprise in Alfred’s eyes as he's striding through the distance between them, faster than he's ever moved in battle. He reaches Alfred in a matter of an eyeblink, his hands coming up to grip Alfred's forearms and he's shoving Alfred against the wall. He uncurls his fingers off Alfred’s arms to clasp his hands on the back of Alfred's neck and crushes his mouth to Alfred's.


	3. Chapter 3

Uhtred feels an unexpected ripple of shock at how good Alfred tastes.

Alfred’s lips are just as soft as he imagined they would be. The tremble of Alfred's mouth under his, the shuddering sight that breaks through Alfred's lips -- make Uhtred ache and urge to deepen the kiss. It's not a gentle and kind and loving kind of kiss he often shares with his women. It's lips and teeth and tongue and plundering, and it makes his brain spinning, his heart hammering.

Alfred’s hands are clawing at Uhtred's hair and shoulders, and he's arching into Uhtred while he's pressing him hard against the wall, desperate and hot and heavy with want.

This's madness. Uhtred knows in vivid detail what would happen to them if anybody caught them. He knows that, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to stop.

He’d been dreaming of Alfred for so long, wanting him, burning for him and now Alfred is here, kissing him back with a passion that borders on desperation. He would have to be a saint to stop when he could breathe in the soft gasps straight from Alfred's lips. Finally, he had a taste of Alfred, and he wasn't giving that up.

Aye, he would have to be a saint... and he is a pagan.

He throbs hard with need. No woman had ever made him so hard and desperate. He tightens his hand on Alfred's skull and tugs Alfred's head to the side so he can drag a slow, wet kiss up the line of Alfred's neck. He sucks and bits beneath Alfred’s jaw, hard enough to draw a startled breath.

‘’Uhtred,’’ Alfred moans his name, sounding a bit shaken, head tilting back and neck arching deliciously. “ _Yes_. That’s good,” he pants, ‘’Come on. Do it, mark me.”

Uhtred sucks in a stunned breath at hearing those words wretched out from Alfred needy, desperate and breathless, for him, and his arousal winds impossibly high. The magic and wonder of Alfred’s taste, the stunned shock of the knowledge that Alfred wanted him as much as he wanted him; make him possessed by emotions he doesn't fully understand.

Fierce emotions.

Poignant emotions.

"Alfred,” he whispers, low and hot and wanting, and bites down on the pale column of Alfred's neck as Alfred's hands clutching tightly at his shoulders. ''I knew — you would be — like this," Uhtred murmurs into Alfred's neck, between nipping and sucking a kiss right there. "I've — dreamed of you — like this."

"Uhtred," Alfred gasps his name again, voice raw and rough. He arches up and rubs himself against the flare of Uhtred's hip, and the friction and press of Alfred's erection makes Uhtred's breath stutter for a long moment from the bolt of arousal that ripples through him. 

Alfred slides one hand down to the swell of Uhtred's ass, holding it there, his fingers bit into Uhtred's flesh.Then, his hips start to move. A slow grind and shift, and Uhtred groans out a desperate noise. He bites another bruise into Alfred's throat when their cocks brush through their breeches.

A furious heat coils around the base of Uhtred's spine as Alfred keeps pressing and rubbing in counterpoint to the motion when Uhtred’s hips surge forward. 

They move together like that, grasping and greedy, and Alfred shoves his hands under Uhtred's shirts, his nails scratching down Uhtred's sides as he tries to pull him closer. Then his hand slips between their bodies and his fingers make swift work of below Uhtred's breeches, and Uhtred chokes on a curse when those long, delicate fingers--finally-finally-- are closing around his painfully hard cock.

He's impatient—too eager and frantic undressing himself or Alfred without losing contact. He tears the fabric of Alfred’s tunic aside with careless haste, baring Alfred's pale skin. His hands roam hungrily and restlessly over Alfred’s smooth and firm skin, sliding down his chest, over the fine hairs there, across hard nipples, then his splayed fingers rest against Arthur’s belly before they press forward again. He could feel Alfred vibrating under his touch, his need mirrored in Uhtred's trembling fingertips.

His hips buck into Alfred’s fist and he moans, hard and long and shameless when Alfred’s smooth fingers brush over the burning heat of his erection with a measured stroke. His lips trail down to the hollow of Alfred’s collarbone and he runs his teeth over the beautiful line of Alfred's shoulder. Alfred's pulse beats wildly under his mouth, and pressing a kiss to that spot, Uhtred holds himself there for a long second. Then he works his way up to the place below Alfred's jaw with hot, wet kisses and sharp, little bites, so he can draw that breathless, pleased sound- he just came to crave- out of Alfred again and again.

In return, Alfred’s movement of his hand grows more quick and insistent, swirling at the head of Uhtred's cock then tugging harder on the down stroke. There's not a trace of hesitation in Alfred's hand while he is taking Uhtred completely apart.

Uhtred's eyes slip shut and a curse is wretched out from his chest as he's thrusting up into Alfred’s fist, slowly at first, but he begins to speed up as Alfred adds a twist of his wrist and fastens the pace. His pulse beats wildly in his ears and he's panting from the hot pleasure Alfred's hand brings to him. He can feel that he's leaking steadily now, the fluid making everything sticky and slick and wonderful and... _Holly Shit,_   _he is_ ...

He sucks in a deep, shaky breath while he's chanting inside his head,   _Not yet. Not yet. Don’t come yet._  Not before he gets his hand inside Alfred's breeches, before he can wrap his fingers around Alfred's hardness and stroke him until Alfred's moaning and fucking into his fist.

His free hand struggles with the fastenings of Alfred’s leggings, and he's rewarded with a satisfied moan when he manages to free that hot, rigid cock and curls his fingers around it. He wrenches his mouth from Alfred’s skin to look down, and the sight of his hand clutched around Alfred’s beautiful, thick, hard shaft; is almost enough to make him blow his load.

 _Not yet, not yet_  ...and he inhales long and deep against the urge to come.

Alfred is heat and throbbing hardness in his hand, arching and shivering when Uhtred tightens his fingers and begins to move them up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. He sweeps his thumb across the slit to gather the drops of Alfred's precum, then swirls the wetness over the swollen, deep red crown before he slides his fingers down the length again. Alfred's hips surge sharply into Uhtred's hand and he moans low and wretched, and it's the most beautiful sound Uhtred had ever heard.

He leans back a bit to look at Alfred’s face. His gaze roaming over Alfred's expression and it does something to him.

A strange, possessive hunger ignites low in his belly as his eyes take in the sight. Alfred's lips are parted, swollen and wet, his cheeks are flushed with arousal, his pupils as big and wide as his eyes. His eyes: which are bright, full of heat and lust and hunger, his gaze burning right through Uhtred, singeing with its intensity.

It's a new intensity, with a little bit of desperation that Uhtred had never seen before. The contrast with Alfred's normal expression is striking, and Uhtred can’t help but feel a burst of pride and pleasure at the knowledge that it's him, he could do this to Alfred. He’s the one who broke that cool reserve and put this look on Alfred's stoic face.

He curls his fingers into the hair at the back of Alfred's neck and kisses Alfred again, so thoroughly, that it takes his own breath away. He's moving his mouth over Alfred's harder now, plundering with possession and raw intensity. He licks into Alfred's mouth, tongue going deep, sliding around Alfred’s, rubbing against each other. And Alfred's strokes getting quicker on Uhtred's cock while with his free hand he is reaching up to thread it into Uhtred’s hair. Keeping Uhtred's head in place, he is kissing back, lush and desperate and deep.

Uhtred sucks Alfred's tongue into his mouth and nudging Alfred’s fingers out of the way, he wraps his big hand around both of them. Hot, smooth skin sliding back and forth as their cocks care each other in the confines of his hand. He's moving, grinding his hips, rocking against Alfred again and again and again while his hand moves with determination, stroking down tight, so their swollen heads care each other, cocks sliding together....

Their cocks are leaking bad, droplets like tears, tears being shed for a sin that feels so good. He had made a sinner of Alfred but he couldn’t care less.

Not while Alfred’s fingers are clutching painfully at his shoulders, while his moans echo Uhtred's groans. Not while Alfred’s breathing and panting in Uhtred's mouth is just as hard as his, the hammering of Alfred's chest just as fast as his, and Alfred skin is just as feverishly hot as his.

Not while this part of Alfred is his, and he is sure, only his, to see.

Alfred's getting close. Uhtred can see it in the widening of his eyes, feel it in the tension in Alfred's muscles under his palm as they draw tight.

‘’Uhtred...can’t wait.’’ Alfred breathes into his mouth.

‘’Yeah, me neither.’’ Uhtred murmurs, his mouth grazing Alfred's cheek. He feels the throbbing heat coiling in his gut, a fire licking in the base of his spine, he is so close...

Alfred's head falls back in abandon, and Uhtred watches with awe the straining muscles of his neck before lavishing it with fevered kisses. He speeds up his hand, stroking fast and hard, creating such delicious friction he can’t wait another second. ‘’Alfred... I’m going to...I have to---’’

‘’Come.’’ Alfred breathes smooth and husky right into his ear, like a command. And that's all it takes for Uhtred's cock to oblige.

His pleasure is tearing down the length of his spine, so powerful and sharp like lighting. His teeth catching Alfred's lower lip and he lets out a desperate groan of Alfred's name as he unleashes the stream of his come onto Alfred’s stomach. It rolls over him like a wave, churning and endless, and it leaves him shaking, one hand clutching at Alfred's arm while the other keeps stroking and circling Alfred toward his orgasm.

When he opens his eyes Alfred’s eyes are dazed on his face. A rasped breath leaves Alfred’s chest and his whole body shudders before the blasts of his come covers Uhtred's hand.

He pulls Alfred into his arms and presses his face into the crook of Alfred's neck. He's holding Alfred tight but his fingers are soft and slow as they're stroking Alfred's back -- waiting until Alfred's shaking eases, until both of their racing hearts calm down.

It's long minutes before Uhtred turns his head and leans back to look at Alfred. He's looking his fill, liking how Alfred looks right now, just like in his fantasies-flushed, sated and so thoroughly ravished.

“What?” Alfred asks, tilting his head to the side inquisitively, then he smiles, a little shy and a lot boyish. And fine, it's damn adorable and hot and sexy like Hell.

"Did you never suspect?" Uhtred asks, his gaze dropping to Alfred's mouth, and his lips tingle with how badly he wants to kiss those beautifully swollen lips again.

"No," Alfred whispers, and he sounds shaken. There's nothing of his usual sly, cool confidence as he says, "I’ve never thought.’’ Then his expression changes, a slow smile spreading across his face, happiest smile in the world, making Uhtred wonder why they need candles at all, when Alfred’s smile is so bright it could light up the darkest room. ’’But sometimes… I wondered.’’ His eyes seeking Uhtred’s as he asks. “Did you?”

“Once or twice. But then I convinced myself I had imagined it.’’ Uhtred admits with a pout.

A teasing smile curves Alfred’s mouth and there is a mischievous glint in his eyes that hits Uhtred somewhere in the vicinity of his ribs. Above his ribs, actually. And maybe a little to the left. “Well, then...maybe we should close the door and should get on for a second time to prove---‘’

Uhtred laughs and puts an end to talking by catching Alfred’s hands and pressing a kiss on the insides of those delicate wrists before he pins them over Alfred's head, and lunging forward, he takes Alfred’s mouth in a hungry kiss. He kisses Alfred fierce, chasing and wanting to drink in that happy, coaxing smile.

And he's feeling a strange, ridiculous sparkle of happiness, an unusual feeling, but something Uhtred could definitely get used to.


End file.
